We Are Broken
by winchesterlove94
Summary: The brothers are forced to deal with the loss of their dad. But when are things ever that simple for the Winchesters? Hurt!Sam and Hurt/Guilty!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys!**

**Alright, so this fic will be either a two-shot or a three-shot, depending on how things go! It takes place a couple days after John's death. Thanks to everyone for reading! I really appreciate it and love you all!**

**Enjoy!**

"Dean...do you uh, you mind slowin' down a bit?" Sam spoke up in a panic-stricken voice. He gripped the door handle and swallowed nervously. "I'd like to live to see my 24th birthday, man." He joked lightly, trying to ease the tension in the Impala that was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Dean kept his foot against the accelerator, tuning out his brother as he stared straight ahead. His shoulders were raised slightly with rigidness and his eyes were narrowed into slits. He slacked his grip on the steering wheel before tightening his fists once again around the wheel until his knuckles turned white.

He was driving the Impala well over 100 mph, with no intent to stop. If he could just keep driving and driving...maybe, just maybe he could escape the pain and heartache that seemed to follow him no matter where he went.

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Please Dean, just slow down a little."

Dean shot his brother a glare out of the corner of his eye, before giving Sam some piece of mind, and inching his foot off the gas pedal, slowing the car down until it cruised at 80 mph.

Sam visibly relaxed as he let go of his death grip on the door handle and settled into his seat.

A heavy silence swept over the car. Dean could sense Sam staring at him, but chose to ignore the concerned glances.

The younger brother kept his eyes zeroed in on Dean, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. It wasn't just the fact that Dean's normal smart-ass, sarcastic, 'couldn't give a crap' attitude wasn't present that bothered him. It was the little things about his brother that were missing.

For instance, Dean's lack of appetite. Sam practically had to force food down his brother's throat half the time, but even then, it was only bits and pieces. Sam could clearly see the weight disappearing off Dean's body and the haunted look in his eyes, and it killed him inside to know that there was nothing he could do.

Another thing that worried Sam to no end was that Dean hadn't touched the radio. No AC/DC or Metallica was blaring through the speakers. They had been on the road for _days_ now, and his hand hadn't even twitched towards the dial.

Sam sighed and decided to make a move, in the hopes that maybe he could help cheer up his brother. He reached over and flipped on the radio, turning up the volume as Motorhead echoed throughout the car.

"Turn it off."

Sam cocked his head to the side and glanced at his brother, having barely heard Dean's voice. "What?"

"Turn it off." It wasn't a request or a suggestion. It was an order. Even if it had lacked the brutality most orders came with, Sam could clearly hear it.

Sam quickly shut it off and sat back as that deafening silence crept back into the car. It became too much for the younger brother. It was time to speak up. "Dean-"

"Don't."

"But Dean-"

"Seriously Sam. I'm not in the mood for one of your girly talks." Dean snapped, his eyes never straying from the road.

Sam clenched and unclenched his jaw before taking a deep breath. He and his brother were going to talk whether he liked it or not. "Dean, you're really starting to scare me."

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. "Here we go." He muttered.

The younger brother ignored Dean as he continued. "I mean, you're not eating and you barely sleep. Man, you're running yourself into the ground."

"So what do you want me to do Sam? Huh? Pretend like everything's alright?" Dean snarled.

"No, of course not! I'm not saying that Dean! But you're running on empty. You...you need to let yourself grieve." Sam took another deep breath before lowering his voice. "We just lost our dad-"

"Sam..." Dean spit out in warning.

"-but you can't just bottle everything up like usual."

Dean scoffed and shook his head in exasperation. "Right...So I'm guessing you want us to embrace each other as I cry gently into your shoulder while you console me during these hard times. Oh wait, here comes the good part." He continued sarcastically, mocking enthusiasm. "Then you'll tell me how everything will be okay and how we will get through this. And after we will laugh and smile as we remember memories of dad. That's pretty much how these things go right?"

"Would you quit being such a smartass? I'm serious, Dean." Sam snapped.

"So am I!"

Sam casted his eyes down before softening his tone. "You're killing yourself by doing this, man."

Dean just glared ahead, an emptiness filling throughout him, threatening to swallow him whole. "I'm supposed to be dead anyway. Might as well put everything back in order." He muttered.

Sam stifled a gasp, a lump growing in his throat as tears shot to his eyes. He turned his head towards the window and bit his lip until he tasted blood. How could Dean say that? How could he say that to him? Dean meant everything to Sam. He _was_ everything to Sam. "Don't...Don't say that." He choked out in barely a whisper.

Dean's furious expression dropped immediately as he stared at Sam, guilt replacing anger. Great. Now he went and made his brother upset. He just couldn't do anything right, could he?

Both brothers fell into silence, the only sound coming from the roar of the Impala.

***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***

Several hours later, along with the constant pestering of Sam begging to find a place for them to crash for the night, Dean finally pulled off the seemingly endless road and to the parking lot of a run of the mill motel. A few rundown diners were scattered around the basically non-existent town, as well as a bar or two.

There had been no further discussion of what had been said before between the brothers.

Much to Sam's distaste, he decided he would wait until later to bring up the matter again. If he threw too much at Dean at once, his brother would shut him out even more than he already was.

This had to be planned carefully.

"You want me to get the room or-" Sam began, but was cut off by the slamming of the driver's side door as Dean stalked away towards the motel lobby. "-do you." He muttered in defeat.

Looks like he was stuck with the luggage.

Sam heaved himself out of the car and made his way to the trunk, glancing at the motel lobby to see Dean speaking with the manager. He mumbled to himself something about 'pain in the ass big brothers', as he tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbed Dean's bag and their weapon bag with each of his hands. Sam shut the trunk as Dean exited the lobby.

The older brother automatically scanned the parking lot, his eyes landing on Sam as relief visibly filled his eyes. But other than that, Dean moved on as though Sam wasn't there. He reached their room and went inside, slamming the door behind him.

Sam paused mid-stride, all alone in the vacant parking lot. He stared at the closed door with a hurt expression. Dean's actions stung more than his silence. He hung his head back and took a deep breath, muttering, "Lord give me strength."

He adjusted the baggage he held as he walked up to their room and kicked the bottom of the door twice. Sam waited patiently until the door swung open, revealing Dean's drawn face.

Dean looked like he had aged twenty years over night. His was pale, his eyes were sunken in and dull, and his face was void of emotion. He swiftly turned around as Sam lumbered in, tossing their bags to the ground.

"Wait Dean-" Sam called after his brother, but was met with the slam of the bathroom door. "Great." He muttered, plopping down on the bed farthest from the door and wearily rubbing his eyes. He was beginning to feel the start of a migraine grow behind his eyes. "Shit." He sighed, shutting his eyes and flopping onto his back.

This could not get any worse.

But knowing the infamous Winchester luck, Sam knew it probably would.

And he was right.

***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***SPN***

Dean slammed the bathroom door shut behind him and locked the door quickly. He rested his forehead on the door as he squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on controlling his breathing.

He felt like he was suffocating.

Dean couldn't catch a breath and he felt his vision tunnel. He turned around so his back was to the door as he slid down. He wasn't blaming Sam for him feeling claustrophobic in wide open spaces, but his brother's presence sure didn't help. Not after what his dad told him...His father's last words to him only increased the insistent pounding on his skull.

Every time he stole a glance at Sam, it felt like a punch to the gut. Why the hell would his dad tell him that if he couldn't save Sam, he'd have to kill him? What kind of father laid that burden on their own kid?

Dad...

It had been four days.

Four days since they had salted and burned their dad's bones. And since then, the two brothers had been on the road nonstop. They didn't have a destination, they just drove and drove. Dean had only pulled off the road once to sleep, but even then, he had only gotten a hour or so before jolting awake. Sam had been able to sleep more, and while Dean was thankful for that, he was jealous that at his brother was able to escape harsh reality for a couple hours.

The older brother's number one priority was still Sam, so he made sure to stop for food every so often. The kid was skinny enough already and Dean intended to keep him well fed like he had his entire life. He, on the other hand, wasn't so worried about himself. Food just didn't appeal to him anymore. It made him sick to his stomach, actually. He'd barely been able to hold down half of a bacon cheeseburger, and that was only because Sam had practically begged him to eat something.

You could say he wasn't dealing with his dad's death very well.

No, actually, he didn't _want_ to deal with it. He was just gonna bottle everything up...every ounce of guilt, pain, shame, despair- and pretend that he was fine. That he didn't feel this anger welling up inside of him. That he didn't want to put a round of bullets into his head.

Dean could handle a shit load of things, but this...this was pushing him off the edge.

Dean knew. He knew the truth. It was so obvious, he knew the second his dad's heart monitor went flat.

His dad had made a deal. Dean's life for his. He should have never woken up from the coma. He should have stayed dead. Now his dad was dead and the colt was missing. For what? Bringing him back to life? He wasn't worth that. He wasn't worth anything.

A light tap on the door snapped Dean out of his tortured thoughts.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam's concerned voice came through the door.

"Uh, yeah." Dean quickly responded in a gruff voice, shooting to his feet. He ran a hand over his face, surprised by the wetness on his cheeks. He hadn't even realized he had been crying. He'd have to keep those emotions in check from now on. Dean couldn't let Sam see how broken he really was.

"You sure?" Sam asked softly, on the other side.

Dean flipped on the sink and ran his hands under the water, before rubbing them over his face. "Yeah, I'm fine..." Dean's last words died from his mouth as he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in days.

This had been the reason he had avoided mirrors. He was completely disgusted with himself. Not with just his outer appearance, but what he saw inside of him. This giant, hollow hole that he knew would never be filled.

His dad was dead because of him.

Before Dean knew what he was doing, he pulled back his arm and snapped his fist into the mirror, instantly shattering it to pieces. He was breathing heavily and felt blood rush to his ears. His knuckled stung from the impact, but he didn't mind it. He deserved the pain.

"Dean!" Sam's panicked voice shouted as he pounded his fists on the door. "Dean, open up!"

Dean stared at himself through the cracked glass, the stranger in the mirror staring right back. He shot himself one more hate-filled glare before shoving away from the sink and tearing the door open.

Sam stumbled into his brother from having been leaning on the door. "Dean, what the hell was that?" He questioned frantically as Dean up righted him, before squeezing past and into the bedroom. Sam surveyed the bathroom, his mouth dropping open slightly when he saw the damaged mirror.

Dean stalked over to his bed and grabbed his leather jacket, pulling it on quickly.

"Where are you going?" Sam exclaimed.

"Out." He responded simply.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam asked, approaching his brother. Dean ignored his brother as he made his way to the door. "Hey! Dean, answer me!" He demanded, grabbing Dean's arm and turning him around.

"Just leave me alone, Sam." Dean growled, yanking out of Sam's grasp.

"No." Sam argued obstinately. "I can't take this anymore Dean! We need to talk about this!"

"Uh, let me think about that..." Dean muttered, taking a minute to tap his chin as he mocked a thinking pose. "No." He snapped, turning his back on his brother and heading to the door once again.

"I'm not gonna let dad dying kill you too." Sam called out, stopping Dean in his tracks. "Please Dean. You're the only person I have left." He continued, brokenly.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, his hand paused right above the doorknob. "I just want to be alone." He said after a minute.

"But Dean-" Sam objected, grabbing Dean's arm once again. In one swift motion, Dean spun around and knocked Sam's arm off of him before connecting his right fist to Sam's cheek.

Dean had no idea where that burst of anger had come from, but it disappeared as soon as it came. Sam's knees buckled under him as he grabbed the bed next to him in support. He brought a hand up to his lip to find blood trickling down his chin.

A heavy silence took over the room as Sam stared at the blood on his hand and Dean stared at Sam. After a moment, the younger brother lifted his head, displaying a nasty bruise on his cheek and a spilt lip.

Dean's heart plummeted, feeling sick to his stomach.

Sam licked his lip and cleared his throat, clearly struggling to hold back tears. "I can't lose you too, Dean." He whispered desperately. The brothers shared a long look before Dean slowly turned around. He needed to get out.

Without another word Dean stormed out of the room, slamming the door on the way out, as he left an equally defeated little brother standing alone and broken hearted behind him.

**There you have it!**

**Like I said, this will be either a two or three shot, depending on what y'all want and how things turn out!**

**Let me know what you think so far!**

**Thanks!**


	2. Author

**Author's Note**

HEY STRANGERS.

It's been a while, I know. I've been so busy with life and everything, I haven't been able to write at all. But I know now's a good time for me to return! Thank you to those for sticking around and sticking with me, I've been a terrible person being MIA for so long!

I'll start posting again soon, but for now, I have a tumblr where I'll be taking requests from all of you for SPN fanfics that I'll write!

Tumblr: www. sad-n-dead-winchester. tumblr. com

(take out all the spaces, leave the hyphens in)

So follow me there and leave me story requests!

I'll talk to you guys soon!

Much love.

Jess


End file.
